


Wasting Time

by padalelli



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, angsty fluffy smut, fluffy smutty angst, reader gets ptsd, sammy is at stanford, smutty angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4736708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padalelli/pseuds/padalelli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the incident with Bloody Mary, Dean decides it's time to tell Sam. Time to tell Sam about what he did during the two and a half years Sam was away at Stanford and Dean wasn't hunting with John. Time to tell Sam about what they both had in common with their father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment as much as you want! I need some encouragement to keep writing this! I'll try to update it as much as I can!

**October 20th, 2005**  
Dean pulled the impala over to the side of the deserted highway. Sam turned his head and looked at his older brother with a confused expression. “What?” Sam asked. Dean sighed, dragged his hand over his face, and closed his eyes. Sam could sense Dean reliving a painful memory. “What’s wrong?” Sam prodded.  
“Sammy, there’s something I gotta tell you,” Dean admitted. “Back there, with Mary… your secret was that you dreamt about Jess’ death before it happened…” Dean trailed off. Sam thought he was about to finish his thought, but he didn’t.  
“Yeah,” Sam said painfully, holding his breath.  
“It wasn’t your fault, Sam. You couldn’t have stopped it, even if you tried,” Dean told him.  
Sam shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ignored it. I should’ve warned her, I should’ve protected her,” he argued.  
It was Dean’s turn to shake his head. “You couldn’t have protected her, Sam.” Dean looked at his little brother. “It was always going to happen. The same way it happened to mom, the same way dad couldn’t save her.”  
“That was my fault, too,” Sam muttered.  
Dean scoffed and looked ahead. “It wasn’t your fault. You were six months old, you didn’t do anything.”  
“That’s exactly why it’s my fault Jess died! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t warn her!” Sam yelled. “First our mom, now Jess! Consider yourself lucky, Dean, that you didn’t have to go through losing the love of your life like that,” Sam said coldly.  
Dean shook his head. “Man, for a Stanford boy I would’ve thought you could do better math,” Dean mumbled.  
“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.  
“You were gone for four years.” Sam just wore a confused expression. “I told you I’d been hunting with dad for the last year and a half.”  
“Yeah, I just thought you were hunting on your own for the other two and a half years,” Sam said.  
“Not all two and a half.”

**_August 15th, 2001_**  
You were packing your hunting equipment back into the trunk of your car, having just taken down a nest of vamps. The sun had just set when you heard the rumbling engine of another car in the distance. Moments later, a black ‘67 Impala rolled over to you and came to a gradual stop, headlights beaming directly at you. You held your hand over the lights to shield your eyes until the driver turned the engine off and got out of the car. A tall man with short, spiked, dirty blonde hair and bowlegs approached you. He flashed a fake police badge before saying, “Miss, I’m gonna have to ask you to…” The man trailed off when he looked in your trunk and saw your bloody machete.  
“Here’s a tip, rookie. Don’t go after a vamp nest at night. That’s when they’ve got the real advantage over you,” you said.  
The man smirked. “You took down half a dozen vampires on your own?” he asked incredulously.  
You chuckled. “One of my easier hunts,” you replied. “I didn’t waste time questioning ‘witnesses’ before I got the drop on ‘em.”  
Dean snickered, glancing in the other direction. “You’re good. What’s your name?”  
“[Y/N],” you told him without missing a beat. “Yours?”  
“Dean. Dean Winchester.”  
“Well, Deano, since I took your hunt, what do you say I help you find a new one?” you offered. Dean looked hesitant. “Come on, I don’t bite,” you joked. “Not on the first date, at least,” you added. That got a laugh out of the Winchester. “Come on. What motel are you staying at?” you asked.  
“The Giles Motel about fifteen miles down the highway,” he told you. “You?”  
“I usually don’t spend more than a couple of days on a hunt,” you replied.  
“Okay, so?” Dean questioned.  
“I don’t stay in hotels. I just sleep in my car.”  
“In that thing? That’s a sad little Herbie you got there.” Dean pointed to your ‘63 Bug.  
You shrugged. “Say what you want about it, it gets the job done. Plus it’s not mine. I’m just borrowing it while my real ride is getting fixed up,” you told him.  
“Who’s fixin’ up your real ride?” Dean prodded.  
“Why’s it matter to you?” you retorted.  
“I’m just tryna make sure you’re not getting ripped off,” Dean claimed, putting his hands up.  
“Yeah, well, I could’ve done it myself, but I didn’t have enough time, you know, what with all the ass-kicking and name-taking that I got going on,” you told him.  
Dean chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. “Well, how about you come back to the motel with me, maybe sleep in an actual bed?”  
You pretended to be offended. “Dean, I’m not that kind of girl!”  
“It’s a room with two fulls. Call it reparations for you taking my hunt from me,” Dean said coolly.  
“Well, I mean, if that’s the only way to repay you…” you joked.  
“Come on. Dinner’s on me,” Dean said, ushering you to his car. You walked around it and climbed into the passenger seat, leaving the bug behind as Dean sped down the highway. “So what’s your story?” Dean asked after a few minutes of silence.  
“What story?”  
“Come on, everyone’s got a story. About how they started hunting. What’s yours?”  
“Dean, you’re gonna have to earn my trust before I just go and spill all my secrets for you.” You had been looking out the window, but as you spoke, you turned your head to face him. You tried to avoid thinking about the answer to his question.  
Dean glanced over at you before looking back at the road. “Is it bad? Sorry, stupid question, sorry I asked.”  
“Wow, you’re smooth, aren’t you?” you replied, snickering.  
“Oh, shut up,” Dean muttered.  
“So what’s for dinner?” you asked, changing the subject.  
“What?”  
“You said dinner’s on you. So what’s for dinner?”  
“Well, sweetheart, what do you like?” Dean asked.  
You smiled to yourself. “After a vamp nest? Mexican food,” you told him proudly.  
Dean looked at you momentarily, squinting his eyes. “Are you mocking me?”  
“Maybe,” you said playfully, shrugging a shoulder, your lip curling into a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**_August 22nd, 2001_**  
You were asleep in the motel bed when your pager started beeping loudly and woke you up. “What the fuck?!” you groaned as you rolled over to check it. You recognized the number as the one for the repair shop. “About damn time,” you muttered.   
Dean sat up in his bed, eyes still closed and insane bedhead. “Huh?” he asked groggily.   
“Nothing, go back to sleep,” you told him as you got out of bed and got dressed, grabbing your things.   
“You goin’ somewhere?” Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.   
“Yeah, the repair shop. They finished fixing up my baby,” you said.   
“Are you coming back?”  
You stopped what you were doing. “Wasn’t really thinking about it, why?”  
Dean looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I kind of like having you around…” he admitted.   
You half-smiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Dean got out of bed and walked over to you, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you. “It means I don’t want you to stop hunting with me,” he mumbled.   
You sighed and put your hands on your hips. “Alright, Winchester. What’s this really about?”  
Dean shook his head, his gaze on you. “I just don’t want to be alone.”  
“Then don’t be alone!” You dropped your arms. “I mean, what else do you want me to say?”  
“Nothing, I don’t want you to say anything. I just… want to not be alone… with you.”  
Then it hit you. You looked down and started chuckling, and when you looked back up Dean was looking at you with a confused expression. “Dean, if you like me, you can just say it. I’m not gonna make fun of you.” You smiled.   
“Fine.” Dean stepped forward and hesitantly took your hand in his. “I like you. And I want to hunt with you.”  
“Just hunt, huh?” you asked.   
“Well, maybe more than that… but yeah,” he responded quietly.   
You placed your empty hand on Dean’s shoulder and pulled him a little closer to you. “Then maybe we could work something out,” you teased.   
His eyes lit up but he dared not smile. “Really?” he asked.   
You nodded. “I mean, I’ll have to find somewhere to put my bike, but…”  
“Wait, your bike?”   
“Yeah. I drive a motorcycle. I did, at least,” you specified. Dean looked at you in disbelief. “What, girls can’t ride motorcycles?”   
Dean snickered. “No, they can. I just didn’t think you could get more awesome,” he said.   
“Well, I did.” You winked and dropped your arms from him, picking up your bag. “Well, are you coming or not?” you asked. Dean just smiled and looked down. “Well, I’ll be waiting in the car. Don’t take too long, Winchester.”


	3. Chapter 3

**_September 30th, 2001_**  
You and Dean had just arrived in McMinnville, where your next hunt would be. Dean parked the impala outside of the ‘Bonnie Blue’ Motel. After you had officially started hunting together, your motorcycle resided in Bobby Singer’s garage, and you rode in the impala with Dean.   
You were exhausted, having just come from another hunt and jumping straight into this one. You followed Dean to the front desk, barely able to hold up your bag. “Just the one room?” the clerk asked.  
Dean tiredly slapped his wallet onto the counter. “Yeah, two doubles, please,” he said, exhaustion coating his voice.   
The clerk messed around on the computer before looking up and saying, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid we only have one room available and it’s a king. Is that alright?”  
Dean sighed and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” you interjected quickly. You just wanted to be able to get some sleep as soon as possible. And if that meant sleeping in the same bed as Dean, then, well, it was a small price to pay. Dean gave the clerk a fake credit card and after typing some things into the computer, they gave it back along with a room key. “Come on,” you muttered to Dean as your free hand took hold of his, pulling him along to the room.   
You dropped your duffle on the ground as soon as you entered the room. The clock on the nightstand read a quarter past one in the morning. You dragged yourself over to the bed and fell onto it, face down, kicking off your shoes. Dean wasn’t far behind you, collapsing onto the empty side of the bed. “Remind me again why we came here right after that witch run-in today?” Dean asked rhetorically.   
You replied with a groan, earning a soft chuckle from Dean. You rolled over onto your back and took off your dirty, now uncomfortable jeans, followed by your sweat-soaked flannel shirt, leaving you in just a black v-neck and your underwear. Dean looked over at you, but quickly glanced away as you settled yourself under the covers. He then sat up and pulled off his own boots, jeans, and flannel, leaving him in his boxer briefs and a gray t-shirt. He was hesitant to climb under the covers with you at first, but once he noticed your body language indicated that you really didn’t give a shit about how much of you he saw or how close to you he was, he got settled for bed without a problem.   
You woke up, restless, a couple of hours later. You turned over to face Dean’s side of the bed, opening your eyes to realize how Dean’s body had gradually migrated closer to yours since he fell asleep. His face was so vulnerable when he slept. No forehead wrinkles, and his lips were just slightly parted to allow his small snores to emit from his mouth. You closed your eyes again, trying to go back to sleep.   
You woke up again right before the sun had risen completely, and Dean’s body had completely enveloped yours over the course of the night. His arms were wound tightly around you and you, in turn, had evidently wrapped your arms around his waist. Your legs were tangled together and his chin rested on the top of your head, your face nuzzling his neck. When you woke up, you stirred a little and looked up at him. Still sleeping like a baby. You nuzzled back into his neck, the sensation of your nose moving across his skin enough to wake him. “Hmm,” he hums. “Get cold during the night, sweetheart?” he teases.   
“Actually, you’re the one that decided I was your teddy bear.” Your voice was muffled by his neck.   
“Takes two to tango,” he remarked.   
“We didn’t tango, Dean,” you said firmly, pulling your arms back from their hold around Dean. _We didn’t tango_ , you repeated to yourself, telling yourself it wasn’t even a possibility. Yes, Dean said he liked you and wanted to hunt with you, but that didn’t mean anything should happen between the two of you… or did it? You decided you’d try to find out, but without Dean realizing. You pulled out of his embrace and sat up at the same time, your lips grazing across his jaw, seemingly by accident. You examined his face to see his reaction. Wide eyes. That’s all he was. _Wait, why is he looking at me like that?_ you thought after a moment. “What?” you finally asked.   
Dean leaned up, reaching out to cup your cheek. He pulled his face to yours in one swift movement and before you knew it he was kissing you. He fell back onto the bed, pulling you down with him; that’s when you began to kiss him back. You placed your hands on either side of his neck and moved so that you were straddling him. Dean’s lips parted and your tongue swiftly took over his mouth. His hands migrated to your waist and suddenly you felt the bulge in his boxers rubbing against you. As much as you hated to do it, you pulled away from the kiss and looked him in the eyes. Oh, those green eyes… “What?” he asked, pulling you out of your daze. You could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t confused, but worried, genuinely worried as to what he might’ve done wrong.   
“We can’t do this,” you told him hesitantly. “Not right now, at least… Dean, we haven’t even known each other for two months. And the only reason this is even happening is because we’ve been hunting together and the motel ran out of rooms… you- you don’t really want this.”  
“What? [Y/N], of course I want this. The past six weeks with you have been the best six weeks of my life. [Y/N], you’re beautiful, smart, kind, funny… you’re perfect. I want this, [Y/N], I want _you_ ,” he said gently.   
You shook your head. “I’m not perfect, Dean. I’m not any of those things.” You thought back to when Dean asked you what your story was that first night. What the story was. A tear escaped from your eye.   
Dean wiped away the tear with his thumb and shook his head, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. “You’re perfect to me,” he murmured after. “All those things you think are flaws? They just make me appreciate you even more.” He kissed you again, gradually moving his lips down to your neck.  
“Take me on a date first, Winchester,” you breathed. If he wanted more than just _this_ , if he wanted _you_ , he’d have to prove it.


	4. Chapter 4

**_November 5th, 2001_**  
Dean carried you bridal style into the motel room. You were exhausted and hurting beyond belief after the hunt you had today. You’d gone up against the Egyptian god Apep, the Egyptian god of evil and chaos. You had known the mythology described him as a serpent, but you didn’t think that you’d be going up against a 16 yard snake with a flint skull.   
Apep had thrown you around quite a bit before Dean was able to kill him. Killing Apep was a complicated process- spit on the serpent, mutilate it, then burn it, all while reciting a spell. You didn’t mind fending for yourself while Dean completed all the steps, but after Dean saw you get thrown around like a ragdoll because you weren’t expecting a huge serpent, he sure minded.   
Dean set you down on the bed gingerly, taking care of you. “You don’t have to blame yourself, you know,” you told him as he undressed you so that he could clean you up. He remained silent. “You’re not responsible for what I do, Dean. You’re just responsible for taking care of me after whatever stupid thing it is that I do.”  
Dean grabbed the first aid kit. You mostly just had bruises, but you had a few cuts here and there that needed to be cleaned. He took an alcohol wipe and ran it across a large gash you had on your ribcage. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but Dean just wanted to get it cleaned up so it wouldn’t get infected. You hissed a little at the burning sensation his tender care brought. “I know,” he finally said. “I just don’t know why I let you convince me that the plan that puts your life at risk is the one that will work.” Now it was your turn to be silent.   
You waited until Dean finished patching you up before you sat up and said, “Come here.” He sat on the bed next to you and looked at you. His eyes roamed over your body with sadness. You scooted over to him and pulled his face up to look at you. “Dean, I’m okay. I’m here,” you told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
Dean closed his eyes and placed his forehead against yours, his hand wrapping around your wrist. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, turning his head and kissing your palm.   
“You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered. You leaned forward and kissed him more passionately than you ever have before. He immediately responded, pushing you back onto the bed and hovering over you. Your hands wandered to the hem of his shirt, tugging it off of him, his lips detaching from yours only for a second. Dean’s hand found yours and you intertwined your fingers with his. Your other hand carded through Dean’s hair as you explored each other’s mouths, not unfamiliar with the territory. The space between your bodies gradually lessened; Dean was trying to be conscious of your injuries. Soon his body was flush against yours and he moved his lips down to your neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. You let out a whine, tugging on his hair, but that didn’t stop him from his ministrations. He began licking and sucking where your shoulders met your neck. “Dean,” you moaned, dragging out his name.   
He lifted his head and looked at you, his eyes questioning, his lips swollen.   
“We’ve gone on our dates, _now stop being a fucking tease because I need you_ ,” you gasped. Dean half-smirked and nodded. Your hands came apart and Dean unbuttoned his jeans, kneeling back to slide them off, pulling his boxer briefs along with them. His body was back against yours within a second, and Dean reached down to slide your sports bra over your head and onto the ground with the rest of your clothes.   
When he began kissing you again, he was much more tender, more loving, less urgent. You intertwined your fingers with his once again, your other hand exploring his exposed torso. He detached his lips from yours and began to trail them down your body, stopping to pull off your panties before continuing down to your throbbing center. You moaned when he trailed his tongue through your folds, arching your back off the bed. He slipped two fingers into you, curling and rubbing them until you were almost screaming. “Dean, please,” you whined once he removed himself from between your legs. “Dean, I want _you_. Right now, please,” you begged, out of breath.   
His pupils were blown with lust as he crawled back up to you, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss. Dean used his free hand to line himself up with your entrance, and you tightened your grip on his hand as he slowly filled you.   
Your lips separated with a ‘pop’. “Dean, _move_ ,” you moaned.   
He pulled out until about half of his member still filled you before thrusting back in, his thrusts gradually getting more intense as you two found your rhythm. You reached your entwined hands above your head before kissing him again. Dean kissed you like the world was ending, his empty palm tracing up and down your uninjured ribcage as he moved in and out of you. Soon, you were a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, and he reached down between you to rub your clit, helping you reach the peak of your orgasm. It wasn’t even half a second before you were seeing stars, and you heard Dean grunt until he fell undone just a few moments after you.   
Dean pulled himself out of you and collapsed on top of you, your hands still latched onto each other’s, both of your breathing heavy. Dean buried his face in your shoulder, laying a few more kisses on your skin. You found his weight on top of you to be comforting, and you smiled to yourself as you ran your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair in your post-coital bliss. “I love you, [Y/N],” Dean huffed after a few moments of silence. Your eyes widened. Did he just say what you thought he said? Dean soon realized his possible error and lifted his head so he could look at you. “I love you,” he repeated.   
You smiled and said quietly, “Let’s go to sleep.” You saw a spark in his eye disappear before he rolled off of you. You turned on your side to see that his back was facing you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him closer, resting your head on his shoulder. You leaned in and whispered in his ear, “For the record, I love you too, Dean.”  
Upon hearing that, Dean placed his hand on top of yours and squeezed it. You couldn’t see it, but the spark in his eye had returned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slowing down on writing this, so if you want it to keep going, I need your comments!!!!!!

**_November 20th, 2001_**  
After the night you and Dean said ‘I love you’, you had taken a short break from hunting. Right now you were tying the tie on his FBI suit to interview a witness to the shifter case you were working. “You know,” you began, “I know you think this is a monkey suit, but I think it looks really hot on you.”   
“Oh yeah?” Dean asked. You nodded. “Well, _I_ think you’re trying to talk me into bed instead of ‘wasting time questioning witnesses’,” Dean remarked seductively.   
You chuckled and pulled him by his tie so that your lips were grazing his ear. “All I’m saying is that when _I_ hunt, I go for the kill,” you replied, matching his tone. You loosened your hold on his tie and pulled back from your proximity to him.   
His eyes roamed over you and you did the same, examining him, not even noticing when you bit your bottom lip. Dean’s eyes stopped at your lips. _Damn those lips_ , he thought. He mentally slapped himself and then looked into your eyes, his expression serious when he caught your attention. “Stop biting your lip...” he mumbled agitatedly. When you gave him a confused look, he finished with, “...and start biting mine.” With that he yanked you by the waist and crashed his lips against yours. He let out a groan when you bit his lower lip and tugged it. “Fuck, [Y/N],” he breathed as soon as you pulled your lips apart.   
You giggled smugly and grabbed his tie, staring into his eyes. “So, you still wanna waste time questioning those witnesses?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.  
Dean shook his head and returned his lips to yours, quickly sliding his tongue into your mouth before you could say anything, so you simply moaned.   
He lifted you up and you kicked off your heels as Dean carried you back over to the motel bed, gently placing you on the mattress. He stripped himself down to his boxers before crawling on top of you. "Hey, I worked hard to tie that tie for you," you breathed as he kissed down your body. He just hummed in response. "Don't give me that, Dean." That received a chuckle from him. "Dean, just fuck me already so we can get to the police station in time," you continued.  
"We're not going anywhere after this," Dean murmured into the skin of your hips.  
Not realizing completely what he meant, you giggled and ran your fingers through his hair, relaxing against the mattress.   
-  
You and Dean were both curled up on your sides, facing each other underneath the rough sheets of the motel bed. Your legs were tangled together and your finger traced along Dean’s bare chest as you both rested. “[Y/N], when I said we weren’t going anywhere… I didn’t just mean today, this hunt,” Dean murmured. His arms were wound tightly around you, his touch gentle on your bare skin.  
“What did you mean?” you replied in a whisper.   
“I… I want to settle down with you. I don’t mean a ring or a picket fence or a dog or kids or anything. I just want to stop hunting… just be with you,” he admitted.   
You slid your hand up to cup his cheek and looked up at him. You could see the nervousness in his eyes, how hesitant he had been to tell you what he just told you. You could feel him exhale as you kissed his jawline, working your way up to his ear so he could hear you perfectly. “Of course I want that,” you murmured to him, using almost the same words he had the night you first got together. You pulled back and turned his face so he was looking at you. “ _I want you._ ” A grin spread across Dean’s face and he pulled you closer to him and kissed you hard. When he let you go from the kiss, you asked, “Where do you want to go?”  
“How does a tiny town in South Carolina sound?” he asked.   
“Is there a WalMart within twenty miles?”  
“Nope. Just Piggly Wiggly,” he replied.   
“Sounds perfect.” You smiled and kissed Dean again before cuddling into him and falling asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**_December 24th, 2001_**  
You and Dean had gotten settled into a tiny beach house in Edisto, South Carolina. Well, the beach was across the street, but it was a small island. You were always within walking distance of the nearest beach.  
Tonight you and Dean were staying in for Christmas Eve. Nothing special was planned, just cuddling up on the couch with some sparkling cider and watching TV. Dean was on the far side of the couch, with his back against the corner, his legs outstretched and resting on the coffee table. You were curled up against his side, your head on his chest, and his arm was around your shoulder. _A Christmas Story_ was playing on the TV. You were comfortable, not just in your position, but in your new lifestyle. “Hey, Dean?” you asked.  
“Yeah, babe?” he replied without looking away from the TV.  
You tilted your head up at him. “Are you happy here?” You felt bad for asking, but you couldn’t help but feel like he missed hunting.  
His head snapped in your direction upon hearing the doubt you voiced. “What? Of course I’m happy. This was my idea… why would you ask that?”  
“I just… I don’t know. It seems to me like you kind of miss hunting things,” you admitted.  
“I don’t. [Y/N], I love being here with you. I was raised around hunting- it’s all I’ve known for as long as I can remember. So this…” He looked around your little house. “I haven’t had a real home in almost five years. It takes some getting used to for me.”  
You half-smiled. “Yeah, I get it.”  
Dean wasn’t convinced though. “Hey,” he said gently, tilting your chin up and kissing you. “We’re not going anywhere. Okay?”  
You smiled. “Okay.” After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you said, “Hey, what do you want for your birthday?”  
“How’d you know when my birthday is?” he asked.  
“Well, I know you’re an Aquarius. That zodiac begins in about a month. When’s your birthday?”  
“January 24th. But hey, you don’t have to get me anything. I don’t want anything,” he brushed off the question.  
“I’m getting you _something_ ,” you argued.  
“Seriously, [Y/N], I’m fine. Just being with you is enough.”  
“Don’t give me that sappy crap. Whether or not you tell me what you want, I’m still doing something for you for your birthday.”  
“But-”  
You cut him off by attaching your lips to his. “No buts,” you murmured as you kissed him, straddling him, the movie long forgotten.  
Dean’s hands moved to grab at your waist, pulling you against him. You placed your hands on either side of his neck and ran your fingers through the base of his hairline. Dean’s hands migrated to your thighs and squeezed them gently. You made out like teenagers for a while before Dean pulled away for air and you began kissing down his neck. “[Y/N],” he panted as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body flush against his. You hummed. “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he whispered.  
You nipped at his jaw. “Well, technically I’m not supposed to give you your present until tomorrow…” you teased.  
“[Y/N], you have no clue what you do to me,” he whimpered.  
“Oh no, I do,” you murmured, nibbling his ear. “I just like _seeing_ what I do to you.”  
Dean took your face in his hands and began his own torture on you, sucking marks into your neck. You moaned blissfully and Dean’s already substantial erection became noticeable against the inside of your thigh. “You really got a Christmas present for me?” he murmured.  
“Neither of us is religious, Dean,” you breathed back.  
“You didn’t answer my question.”  
_Boy is he talented with that tongue_ , you couldn’t help but think. “No, Dean,” you whined. “I didn’t get you a Christmas present. But you didn’t get me one either,” you defended.  
Dean pulled away from you and you whimpered at the loss of contact. “Actually, I did get you something…” For some reason he looked like he felt _guilty_.  
“Really?” you asked, smiling.  
He hesitated. “Well, yeah, but… I’m not sure if you’ll like it or not…”  
“Just tell me what it is, dummy.”  
Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out an onyx bead necklace with a dog-tag charm that had a dark red snake raised from the surface. “I thought about that hunt with that Egyptian god… Maybe it’s a reminder of a bad memory, but I just…” he trailed off.  
“No, it’s perfect,” you said, gently holding the tag. Dean held the beads open and slipped it over your head. “Thank you,” you said quietly.  
“You’re welcome,” Dean murmured.  
“I feel bad- I didn’t get you anything,” you told him.  
Dean shook his head. “That’s not true. You got me you.”  
You chuckled. “Okay, chick flick,” you laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COME ON Y'ALL HELP ME OUT HERE. I KNOW YOU GUYS ARE READING THIS. I NEED YOUR COMMENTS!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**_January 24th, 2002_**  
Dean woke up to the smell of cinnamon and apples. He tossed the comforter aside and jumped up off the bed, quickly pulling some pants on before going to the kitchen. “Hey there sleepyhead,” you said, sipping on a cup of coffee at the kitchen bar. “Happy birthday,” you told him with a smile.   
He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “What time is it?” he mumbled.   
“Almost eleven. But it’s your birthday so I thought I’d let you get some sleep,” you told him.   
“Yeah, well maybe I would’ve woken up earlier if _someone_ hadn’t kept me up all night,” he said huskily, nibbling your ear.   
“Hey, it takes two to tango,” you mocked him.   
Dean let go of you and you spun around on the stool to face him. “How am I supposed to say no when you keep giving me those bedroom eyes?” He brushed a hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “Those big beautiful eyes of yours… I could look at them for days and not give a damn what I missed.” You gave him a soft smile. A few moments of comfortable silence passed until he asked, “What’s that smell?”  
You chuckled. “I’ve got an apple pie in the oven. I figured as long as you’re asleep and I’m not I might as well be productive,” you said. Dean snickered, shaking his head. “What?”  
“Four months and you’re already baking me pies,” he said happily.   
“Yeah, well.” You poked him in the chest. “Don’t get used to it, Winchester.”   
“Come on, I have you wrapped around my finger and you know it,” Dean said.   
You gently pushed him away so you could get off the stool and go over to the fridge. “That’s what you think, but really, I’ve got you right where I want you. Now, do you want some breakfast?” You grabbed some eggs, bacon, and milk from the fridge.   
“Yeah, sure. Thanks babe,” Dean replied.   
You smirked. “Alright, here you go. Make it yourself,” you said as you set everything down on the counter in front of him.   
You turned around and headed in the direction of the living room when Dean followed you, grabbed your wrist, spun you around, and pulled you into him. “Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured huskily.   
You giggled and he kissed you before you could respond. “I was just going to get your birthday present,” you said between kisses, smiling.   
“Oh yeah?” Kiss.   
“Yeah.” Kiss.   
You wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you up by the waist, holding you up against him by the back of your thighs. “How did I get so lucky?” Dean whispered as he carried you over to the couch.   
You shook your head. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s all because you wasted time questioning those witnesses so that we met when we did,” you said teasingly.   
“Who’s the one wasting time now?” Dean asked as he laid you down, planting kisses all across your collarbone.   
You moaned blissfully and _god_ if it didn’t take Dean everything he had not to take you right then and there. “Still you,” you said breathlessly, giggling when he tickled your sides. “Dean stop!” you laughed. “Stop, please, baby stop,” you said, more calmly when you grabbed at his hands.   
Dean hovered over you with his hands on the couch on either side of your waist. “I love you,” he murmured.   
You smiled. “Why do you say that so much?” you asked.   
“What? I don’t say it that much,” he scoffed.   
“But… you say it. That’s more than any other hunter ever would.”  
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a hunter.” Dean saw the slight pain in your eyes when you reached up and cupped his cheek. One corner of your mouth lifted up in a soft smile, but only momentarily. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked gently.   
You pulled him down to you and buried your head in his neck, trying not to lose your resolve. “My story,” you told him, your voice fragile.”  
“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, trying to keep his weight off you.   
“But I do. I have to tell you sometime,” you said.   
Dean wrapped his arms around you and nestled himself between your knees so that most of his weight was on the couch. He knew you liked the feeling of his weight on top of you, so he just rested that way, allowing you to curl into him. “It doesn’t have to be today,” he whispered.   
You nodded and ran your fingers through his hair. “Sorry for ruining the morning,” you mumbled.  
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he argued. You sighed against him. He leaned up, looking into your eyes. “How about you go get my birthday present and I’ll make us some breakfast?”  
You smiled. “Okay,” you said with a quiet voice. Dean got off the couch and helped you up, him going to the kitchen, and you going to the bedroom, where you had hidden his present. Dean only pulled out a few bowls, a couple skillets, and a couple plates when you came back with a small brown gift box that could fit in Dean’s palm. He turned around and you placed it in his hand. “Happy birthday.” Dean looked down at the box and opened it, carefully removing what was inside. “It’s for protection,” you said as he held up the tibetan skull bracelet. “I know jewelry is kind of girly, but I thought-”  
“I love it,” Dean murmured as he stared at the bracelet, mesmerized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep commenting!


	8. Chapter 8

**_February 13th, 2002_**  
Dean worked as a mechanic just down the road from the restaurant you worked at. He visited you on your breaks and you usually ate lunch or walked along the beach together. Which is why he found it very suspicious that when he called the restaurant that day, they said you hadn’t come in at all. “Alright, thanks,” he said right before hanging up. Then he turned around and yelled, “Hey, Randy, I’m going on break. I gotta go,” before running out of the shop.   
Dean always dropped you off at work before driving himself to work, always waiting a few moments before driving off. Which made him wonder where you could possibly be.  
He had dropped you off this morning, just like usual. He had waited before pulling out, just like usual. So what happened that was unusual? Maybe you had just wandered off somewhere to find something to surprise him for Valentine’s day… except that you didn’t really do that kind of stuff, and even if you did, you wouldn’t take half of your shift to do it.   
Something had to have happened. But you were a former hunter, it wasn’t like you suddenly got a call from someone that was an emergency. Not unless it was another hunter. And even then, you’d call someone else to take care of it. Unless you didn’t want to be retired anymore…   
No, no that couldn’t be it. You were taken. Or attacked. Something. But what? And why? Maybe there wasn’t a reason, maybe you just happened to get targeted as a victim. The real question, though, was it human? Or something else?  
Dean started up the impala and raced home, hoping he could find you there. But when he got there, you were nowhere to be found. Everything was in its place, no sign of struggle, just the way you left it. 

**_February 15th, 2002_**  
“She’s not just some girl, Bobby! I have to find her!” Dean yelled into the payphone. “It’s been forty-six hours and I still don’t have a lead… Please, man, I just need your help,” he whimpered, his voice broken.   
“Honestly kid,” Bobby’s gruff voice spoke through the other end. “If it’s been forty-six hours I doubt there’s any chance of finding her. If it was a monster, she’s dead. If it was a human… well, they’ve got too much of a head start on you. I’m sorry, Dean.”  
“Bobby, if there is even a sliver of a chance that I can get her back, I have to try. And I’ll be damned if I just give up now. Please, Bobby.” Dean paused and his lips quivered. “I don’t know what else to do.”  
Bobby sighed. “I’ll run up a list of anything nearby that could have taken her, monster or human. I’ll get back to you in a few hours.”   
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Bobby, thank you so much,” he said before hanging up.   
-  
Dean answered the motel room phone as soon as it started ringing, expecting it to be Bobby. “What do you got?”   
There was a pause on the other end of the line before anyone started speaking. “Dean?” a broken voice whimpered out. The speaker sounded strained, like they hadn’t had food or water for a long time. Then he heard the soft distant sound of choked back sobs.   
“Who is this?” Dean spat. “Are you the one that took [Y/N]? I swear to god-” the line cut off, leaving Dean with nothing but the drawn out beep of the receiver. Dean threw the phone to the ground with a shout. After anxiously pacing the room for several moments, he picked up the phone and called Bobby. “I think they know who I am, Bobby. I think they’re trying to use her as bait,” he said once Bobby picked up.   
“What?” Bobby asked, not caught up.  
“The takers! I just got a call from _someone_ and I’m pretty sure [Y/N] was on the other end. Whoever it is did this on purpose; they know who I am,” Dean explained.   
“Dean, I can’t think of anyone or anything that has it out for you. Now your dad, that’s another story. But you?” Bobby replied.   
“What has it out for my dad?” Dean asked, his tone serious. Then a thought occurred to him. “No, forget that, what’s my dad got it out for that he hasn’t taken care of yet?”   
Bobby sighed. “Not much. There’s only one that comes to mind. But Dean…”  
“No buts, Bobby, I want answers. What’s dad still chasing after?” he said firmly.   
“Whatever killed Mary. John’s got it in his head that it’s a demon.”  
“Which is why you don’t want me to go after it if that’s what took [Y/N],” Dean finished.   
“Look, Dean, demons are pretty scary shit. But there haven’t been any omens in your area in the past two days.”  
“Well, is there any way a demon could get in and get out without being noticed?” Dean asked.   
“Ehhh maybe with the help of a witch, but…”   
“So they’d have to have a hex bag on them, right?” Dean questioned. “So what if I track down the witch that gave the demon the hex, would that work?”  
“I don’t know what good it would do. You’re probably better off just trying to track the demon like you’d track a normal person. Why don’t you call up your dad and see what he’s got on the demon?”  
“No, no, I don’t want my dad and [Y/N] anywhere near each other,” Dean told him.   
“Why?”  
“Honestly- because I don’t know what might happen if they meet.”  
“So you’re going on a goose chase, huh?”  
“Sounds like it,” Dean confirmed.


	9. Chapter 9

**October 20th, 2005**  
“I found her three days after the call with Bobby. We were right. Demons had taken her. There were two of them. Neither was the one that killed mom. At the time, I didn’t think they had anything to do with it, I just guessed they like messing with our family. I was able to kill one, but… but the other got away.” Dean paused and looked out the windshield in front of him. “She never told me what all exactly happened in the five days that they had her… I mean, it was obvious that they had tortured her, hurt her somehow. She didn’t tell me how or why and I told her she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to, you know.” Dean checked his watch as Sam took in the story. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean cut him off. “We should get to a motel, we’ve been sitting here for a half hour. I’ll finish telling you everything once we settle down, okay?” Dean looked at his brother, who nodded.  
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Sam said gently. 

**_February 19th, 2002_**  
Dean sat by your hospital bed as you slept, his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting his chin as he leaned forward. He wasn’t worried. The doctors told him you’d be fine, that you just needed some rest since you didn’t get any sleep while you were held hostage. He was just watching you as you slept, hoping you slept peacefully. Hoping there weren’t any demonic nightmares. Hoping you’d forgive him when you woke up. Hoping you’d let him take care of you while your injuries healed. Hoping what happened in the past week wouldn’t mean you’d have to go back to hunting or running. Dean wasn’t worrying at all. He was praying.  
He had closed his eyes for a few minutes when you opened yours. You carefully turned your head- the muscles in your neck were strained- and looked at him. “Dean,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.  
His eyes snapped open and he scooted his chair closer, resting his hands on the edge of your bed. “Yeah, baby, it’s me,” he said with a forced smile.  
Your lips turned up slightly. “I know. I remember everything,” you told him. _Everything._  
“Baby, I am so sorry that I couldn’t-”  
“Stop right there, Winchester,” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault, okay? You couldn’t have known this would happen. You couldn’t have possibly thought out a plan for if a situation like this were to occur.” You snickered darkly to yourself. “I honestly thought I’d die before you even found them.” If you could, you’d shake your head, but your neck was too fragile. “But I knew you’d find them. I knew you’d look for me. You were a hunter; you had to find them sometime, right?” Dean nodded then looked down once his eyes watered. You inched your hand forward and linked your pinky with his. “Hey,” you whispered. “It’s okay. We’ll just have to relocate, that’s all. We can still be normal.”  
Dean gently squeezed your pinky with his. “I’m never going to let anything touch you again, I swear to god,” he said through gritted teeth.  
“Neither of us is religious, Dean.” There was evident pain in your voice, but Dean cracked a smile. 

**_March 31st, 2002_**  
You and Dean decided it was time to relocate. You didn’t want to move too far away, though, so you opted for the nearest somewhat big city- Charleston. But you also decided that until you knew no one was after you, you shouldn’t settle down completely. So you’d bunked down in a motel downtown for the past month. The motel was right next to a college campus, and your age allowed both of you to blend in to the environment very well.  
Dean finished fixing you some breakfast as you flipped through the paper, looking for a job. “[Y/N],” Dean said softly. You looked up. “I need you to tell me about those few days…” he didn’t dare continue. “I’m only asking so that I can think of a plan for us, for what we can do to stay safe.”  
“I’m not telling you what they did to me,” you said with a trembling voice.  
“I’m not asking you to, baby. I just need to know who they were and what they wanted with you,” Dean said gently.  
You shook your head. “They were demons,” you shrugged. “And they wanted you. You already know that.”  
“Did they say why?”  
“Dean, I can’t do this right now. I can’t talk about it.” Dean looked down, nodding. He slid the plate of food across the table to you. “I can’t eat right now, Dean. Please, I just can’t,” you mumbled, placing your head in your hands.  
Dean stood up and picked up the plate, putting it on the counter of the kitchenette. His back was facing you and his fists strained against the counter. You had been distant almost constantly ever since what happened. Dean wished you would just tell him what they did to you, how they possibly could’ve hurt you so much that you were to this point of post-traumatic stress. But he wasn’t going to force you to do that, especially if it brought back memories you didn’t want to resurface. “[Y/N], would you please just let me take care of you?” Dean asked with a hurt voice. He turned around after a moment of silence. “I mean, I’m doing the best I can to fix this. To make things right, to make us _safe_. But you gotta cut me some slack, [Y/N]. I’m not asking you to tell me every detail of what happened. Hell, you don’t have to tell me anything. But please just… at least _act_ like you still love me.”  
Your head snapped up at his words and you stood up from your place in the chair. “I _do_ still love you, Dean! But excuse me for having PTSD! God forbid I have any sort of disorder or semi-mental breakdown after what happened to me! You don’t understand how hard it is to try to cope, especially considering the fact that I was practically ripped away from the only sense of home I’ve ever had after they took me! Now we’re living in another goddamn motel, _just like_ the life we tried to leave behind.”  
Dean’s voice was softer the next time he spoke. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I am. I’m honestly so sorry. I’m trying to get us out of here, though. I can’t find us a safe place to stay unless you tell me everything you know about what they wanted with me. And I hate that I have to ask that of you, but it’s the only way I can think to make sure we’ll be-”  
“Safe. Yeah, Dean, I get it. You want us to be safe.” You shook your head and sat back down on the bed. “But it seems to me like I’m the only one who’s really in danger here. I mean, the demons didn’t come after you… even though it was _you_ who they wanted, they came after me. _They hurt me_. I was in the hospital and you were practically left without a scratch.”  
“[Y/N], please don’t say it. I know where you’re going with this and you don’t need to do this,” Dean begged.  
“Dean, I love you, but-”  
As soon as you had begun your sentence, Dean took a few quick long strides over to you and pulled your face up to his, smashing your lips together. “Don’t say it,” Dean breathed between kisses.  
“Dean,” you moaned. You had to finish this, but you couldn’t resist the amazing feeling of his lips against yours; you couldn’t ignore how _right_ he felt.  
“No, we’re better together,” he murmured against your lips, pulling you up by the waist so that you were lying back on the middle of the bed with him hovering over you.  
“Dean,” you whined as he kissed down your neck. “We both know I’m selfish-”  
Dean pressed a finger to your lips and pulled his head up to look into your eyes. “Stop right there. Just stop. Just let me show you how much I’m willing to keep you safe before you say or do anything. Please.”  
You nodded breathlessly, letting out another small moan as he began kissing you again. His lips ran over your bare collarbone and he reached down to the hem of your tank top and slid it over your head. He marveled at you for a few moments before you opened your eyes and said, “What? What’s wrong?”  
He smirked and shook his head ever so slightly. “Nothing.” Dean gently placed his hands on your waist and kissed down your stomach, pulling your pajama pants and underwear down all at once when he reached your belly button.  
You grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head up before his lips could hit your skin again. “Take your shirt off,” you commanded in a breathy voice. He eagerly did as he was told before worshipping you with his lips. His hands gently traced down your outer thighs as he kissed your hips, trailing down to the tops of your thighs, your inner thighs, finally licking up and down your folds, now dripping with anticipation. Your hands instinctively reached down to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into them with every ounce of pleasure Dean was giving you. One of Dean’s hands slid away from your thigh and reached between your legs, pushing two fingers into you. You let out a groan as he curled his fingers inside you and sucked on your overly sensitive clit. “Dean, don’t stop,” you whined.  
You knew he wouldn’t dare stop, but he wasn’t exactly quick to get you to the release you wanted either. No, he was taking his sweet time, sensually trailing his free hand along every inch of your body that he could reach as he slowly worked you up more and more. Your nails dug into him deeper, and you could’ve sworn you drew blood. “Now now, sweetheart, no need to get rough,” Dean grunted, his voice all sex.  
“Fucking do your job, Winchester, and make me come,” you spat in a breathy voice.  
Dean snickered. “If you say so…” With that he thrust his fingers into you, hard, setting a pace he knew would get you off.  
All at once your walls clenched around him and Dean withdrew the dirtiest sex moan from you he had ever heard as you came down from your high.  
Dean crawled up the bed and pecked your lips, his own still wet from you. Your eyes fluttered shut again and you wrapped your arms around Dean’s waist as he rested on top of you. You loved the feeling of his weight on you- it made you feel secure, protected, like nothing could get to you. That fact in itself made you rethink your safety with Dean. Maybe you _could_ stick around. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't keep writing this without y'all's comments!


	10. Chapter 10

**_August 14th, 2002_**  
It had been six months since the demons had taken you to try to get to Dean. You still hadn’t told him everything that happened while you were held hostage by them. You finally told Dean that you wouldn’t tell him anything until you felt completely safe with him. Until you felt like you wouldn’t have to go back to the hunting life.   
So Dean worked very hard to find somewhere for the two of you to go where no monsters or hunters or anyone would even think to look. The Smokey Mountains of Tennessee. Tourist country, at least in the cities. But you would be in a cabin in the mountains. It was colder than you’d have liked, and very secluded, and you weren’t sure if that would be a comfort, or a nightmare.   
Dean packed the Impala with what little you two had, and waited patiently for you while you took a warm bubble bath in the motel room to calm your nerves.   
You were just resting your eyes when you heard a light knock on the door. You hummed, your way of telling Dean he could come in. Dean quietly entered the small bathroom and sat down next to the tub, leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry,” he said. Things hadn’t been as great as they used to be between you two, but damn if Dean didn’t try to be a normal boyfriend and make you feel like a normal girlfriend. It worked for the most part, but you still couldn’t help but feel like there was something between you, keeping you apart. You didn’t respond to his apology, not verbally at least. It was almost as if Dean could read you, know everything you were thinking, know everything that was wrong. He used to be able to, and he was really trying to keep that bond that the two of you had formed. “Tomorrow marks a year since we met.” Silence. “[Y/N]... I know we can’t just ignore what happened six months ago… but I was hoping we could put it behind us. I want to love you the way I did when we first said those words to each other. I want you to love me the way you did when we were in Edisto. I want us to be us again, [Y/N]. I know you might feel like a different person now than you were when we first met, when we first said ‘I love you’... but I want you to be comfortable being you when you’re with me. I will love you no matter what, and I will take care of you _no matter what_.”   
Dean didn’t take his eyes off you until you looked at him in return, your head slowly turning to face him. “I know you will,” you whispered. “I’m just… I’m still so scared, Dean.”   
He reached out to you and cradled your face in one of his hands. “I know you are. It’s okay to be scared. I don’t blame you for being scared. But I promise that once we get out of here and back to the way things were in Edisto, you won’t have to be scared anymore,” he murmured. You nodded and Dean leaned forward and kissed you tenderly. It wasn’t that you hadn’t kissed in the past six months, but _this_ kiss felt right, like it really was going to be okay in the end. Like you and Dean could be happy with a normal life.   
You reached your wet hands out of the tub and placed them on his neck, pulling him closer to you as you kissed. “I do love you, Dean,” you said quietly when you paused to take a breath.   
“I love you so much, princess,” he whimpered in return. “Dry off and we can get on the road, okay?” he proposed. You nodded, pulling your hands back so he could leave and give you privacy.   
You came out to the Impala a few minutes later, dressed and with duffle in hands. Dean took it from you and put it in the trunk while you climbed into the passenger seat.   
The first portion of the drive was quiet, comfortably silent between you and Dean. After your first gas stop, things changed a little. Dean put in one of the cassette tapes you had approved of when you first started traveling with him, and it was still a little quiet at first. Soon enough, one of your favorite songs came on, and you began humming along with it, shortly followed by singing at a low voice. Dean momentarily took his eyes off the road so that he could glance at you. He smiled widely when he realized what you were doing and soon followed your lean, singing along with you. It was soft at first, but Dean slowly escalated his voice, and soon you were both singing back and forth, very loudly and very off-key, and both of you very happy.   
You didn’t stop again until you were almost to the cabin, only stopping for another tank refill. “Dean, do you think we could get dinner before we head into the mountains? I’m really hungry,” you said from the passenger seat.   
“I was thinking we could get settled in and then go out, but if you want we can just drop our stuff off, we can change, and then we could go?” he suggested.   
You raised an eyebrow. “Change? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?” you asked.   
“Well, I thought maybe we could go somewhere nice. We haven’t been on a date in forever, you know,” he said matter-of-factly.   
And then you smiled, a real genuine smile, for what seemed to Dean like the first time in over six months. “I know.”

**_November 28th, 2002_**  
You woke up from a particularly unpleasant dream, noticing that Dean wasn’t in the bed with you, but you could smell something in the kitchen. You got up and slid on his flannel that had been discarded on the floor from the night before, padding silently into the kitchen. “Dean Winchester, you better not be trying to cook,” you said teasingly, sitting on the wooden stool at the island.   
He turned around and gave you a spiteful smirk. “It’s Thanksgiving, I figured I could handle putting a bird in the oven,” he replied.   
You held your hands up in surrender. “Alright, but if we have to eat TV dinners tonight because you burned a turkey, I’m gonna be pissed.”  
Dean walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you, picking you up off the stool. “I think I can follow some simple directions on how to use an oven and a thermometer,” he murmured.   
You wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck and your legs around his waist, combing your fingers through his hair. “I’m sure you can,” you said before kissing him.   
After a few moments of innocent kissing, Dean pulled himself away, looking at you with lust in his eyes. You smiled and kissed him again, which he took as your approval. He walked you over to the couch and gently laid you down, hovering over you. You grinded yourself against his hardening erection and pulled him down to you, pressing your bodies together and eliciting a _damn_ sexy moan from Dean. You kissed down his neck, your hands moving to pull his shirt off. Dean eagerly helped you and once the piece of clothing was discarded on the floor, he pulled your face to his and began kissing you fiercely, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he was on a frickin’ expedition. His other hand held you tightly by the waist, fiddling with his flannel shirt. You were overly aware of him pressed against your crotch and you reached down to pull your panties off, _needing_ him inside you.   
His mouth dragged down your jaw to your neck, and he slowly undid the buttons on his flannel with his teeth, one by one, kissing your newly exposed skin after each. You arched your back once the flannel was completely open, trying to express your needs to him without having to say anything. And of course he understood- he knew you like the back of his hand. He brought his body back up and rid himself of his boxers before spreading your legs and slowly entering you. You moaned blissfully and Dean did the same once he began moving inside you, trying a new tactic to get you off. “Oh, Dean,” you sighed, dragging out the words. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the sensation of Dean moving within you better than it had ever been before, and you wondered why he hadn’t tried anything like this before. Your moans grew both in volume and in frequency, and you weren’t the only one making those sounds either. You’d move your hips with Dean’s, creating a rhythm you’d never found before, as if you were meant to be one. You were drawing the same kinds of sounds from him as he was from you, and just as you felt your walls clench around him, you felt him release inside you, grunting your name. Rather than falling on top of you, the way he usually did, he slid his arm underneath you and flipped the two of you over so that he was on the bottom and you were on top, warmed by Dean’s body and flannel. You liked this position- you found that you still felt safe in this position, as long as you were with Dean. “I’m ready to tell you,” you murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I posted! College is crazy!


	11. Chapter 11

**October 20th, 2005**  
“So? What’d she tell you?” Sam asked. Dean was lying in the motel bed while Sam sat in a chair facing him, engulfed in the story.  
“She told me her story. The story of how she began hunting. And it was so much worse than I had expected it to be,” Dean said. “I had been expecting her to tell me what happened when she had gone missing, but this… I just hadn’t expected this from her.” Sam could tell what reliving the memories were doing to Dean, so he didn’t push him to tell him the rest, although he desperately wanted to know. 

**_November 28th, 2002_**  
You and Dean sat up and you grabbed your underwear off the floor, pulling them back up your legs so you wouldn’t be so exposed. “You can tell me anything, sweetheart,” Dean said gently, his hand on your shoulder.  
You turned to look at him. “Remember when you asked what my story was? You asked if it was bad, then realized it was a stupid question.” Dean nodded. “Remember when you told me I was perfect, and you said all that stuff about me? And I told you that it couldn’t be true.”  
This time Dean shook his head. “Don’t say that,” he seemed to beg.  
“Dean, that’s the thing. My story isn’t bad. Not even a little. When you said I was smart, and funny, and kind… you couldn’t have been more wrong,” you said, shaking your head. You sighed inwardly before you began your story. “I was raised by good parents. Nothing was wrong. Nothing. I had a mother and a father who were both always there for me and loved me and took care of me my entire life. They were perfect parents. They _are_ perfect parents; they’re still alive. They weren’t killed my monsters or anything like that. Not long before I started hunting, I got held hostage by a Djinn. My dream life was almost exactly like my normal life. Some hunters saved me after a couple of days- I don’t remember where I was tied up, or even if I was in my own city. I just remember deciding I was going to be a hunter. It wasn’t a naive choice, it wasn’t an ‘oh this’ll be fun!’. I just… decided. No one forced me, no one even tried to convince me. I just made the decision.” There was a long pause before you spoke again. “I know why I did it, though.”  
“But you had the perfect life, why would you just give that up?” Dean asked.  
You looked at the ground in front of you. “It was too perfect. It was just so fucking _perfect_ , you know?” You looked at him again, seeing that he _didn’t_ know. “I lived my whole life… with great parents who were so… _proud_ of me. They were so fucking proud of me Dean, and I mean not that they shouldn’t be, but it just… it put so much pressure on me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them, I still do. I just- I couldn’t be under all that pressure. I wasn’t even clinically depressed or anything like that. I wasn’t suicidal but I wasn’t on a mission to save the world or make a difference or get revenge or go on an adventure… I just was. I was caught in perfection. I didn’t hate it either. And yet… a month later I’m a hunter. And that’s the story.”  
“You don’t want a normal life with me, do you?” Dean asked, squinting his eyes.  
Then the dam finally broke, tears falling down your face. “I don’t know what I want, Dean,” you whimpered.  
Dean pulled you into his lap, cradling you like a baby as you cried quietly into his shoulder. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered. He stroked your hair and kissed your temple, unsure what to do. He just wanted to make things right by you. 

**_November 29th, 2002_**  
Dean woke up on the couch when you tapped his shoulder. He blearily opened his eyes and fumbled to sit up quickly when he recognized your face. _Who else would it be?_ he thought to himself. “Hey baby,” he mumbled, his voice husky from sleep. “What’s wrong?”  
“You didn’t sleep in the bed with me last night,” you said.  
“Yeah, I, um, I wanted to give you some time to yourself. I thought you should have some time away from me to… get yourself sorted.”  
“Get myself sorted? Dean, what are you talking about?” you asked, confused.  
“Well, yesterday when you told me what happened, you told me you didn’t know what you wanted… I thought being away from me might give you some time to figure it out, so I slept on the couch,” he explained.  
You sat down next to him. “Dean, I may not have been sure of things in the past… but the one thing I am sure about is that I should be with you. And whether that means hunting or not hunting, or whatever it means, I’m all in. I know that as long as I have you with me, I can make it through anything. I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend lately, but I _do_ love you.”  
Dean smirked. “You don’t have to worry about being a good girlfriend to me,” he said, shaking his head. “You just worry about being good to yourself, okay? And whatever you want to do, whatever makes you happy, we’ll do it.”  
“I told you, I don’t know what I want, Dean,” you said.  
“Then that’s okay. We’ll just play it by ear. I don’t care, honey, I just want to be with you and make you happy.”  
“And what if you can’t?” it was originally just a thought, but your mouth had just spoken it aloud, for you and Dean to hear. And you wished it hadn’t. You had just reminded Dean of what had happened so long ago yet it still seemed like it could’ve been just yesterday. You had reminded him of his failure to protect you, something you’d already known he would never get over.  
He clenched his jaw and looked down. You could tell he was trying not to think about it. “Then I’ll do whatever it takes to make you safe so that you can make yourself happy.”

 

 ** _December 24th, 2002_**  
**11:47pm**  
You were alone in a motel room, thinking of everything that you had been through. Overthinking it, for that matter. Especially at a time like this. You knew you should’ve just gone to bed after you left that bar, before you did anything stupid. But here you were, waiting for someone who might get you off. Someone who might not even arrive, you thought, right before you heard a knock on your door. You eagerly got up and opened it for him. He smiled, almost chuckling, when you smashed your lips to his and pulled him inside. _Why am I doing this to him?_ you asked yourself, thinking of Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 to be posted soon!


End file.
